


Faux Fur

by Kasan_Soulblade



Series: The Files [5]
Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: AI, Gen, Kidnapping, Reeve prespective, Turk executive frictions, clashing perspectives, novelization from marlene's kidnapping till end game
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-08 19:21:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3220514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kasan_Soulblade/pseuds/Kasan_Soulblade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a Turk's job, not his.  He was just a man who loved cats and tinkering with little things, he'd never held a gun in his life...</p><p>And all his "complaints" were noted, pitted against his yearly bonus and out he went anyways.  </p><p>To do the unthinkable, no cat's facade to spare him the repercussions he stepped from the plates into a world he'd heard of, seen, but never seen as himself.</p><p>What he saw there, and what he did would have further repercussions than any anticipated.</p><p>Reeve's perspective of final fantasy seven, spanning from Marlene's kidnapping to possible end game.  Set in the same verse as "Glass", begins after chapter 10 (soon to be posted), no previous reading required.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Theres a price... to do no wrong

Faux Fur

There's a price to pay if you do no wrong…

 

 

"Come now lassie, you have to come! Please!" He used the voice, but without the fur to soften his visage or the comical tail to swish about he wasn't sure she'd trust him. He was a tall man, not powerfully built but not as fragile from his work as to appear harmless. Normally he prided himself on his façade of strength. It was an illusion he upheld so that others wouldn't hurt him, but he knew deep in his heart in the places he cared not to pry that when action came to him he'd balk.

That was the reason behind Cait Sith, the purpose behind the cat. Cait wasn't some harmless hobby or form of escapism as he had assured his few friends and family over and over again. He wasn't a toy either, no that lie was as hollow as Mog's back. That harmless piece of fiction was for AVALANGE benefit only. The little white lie he'd fed Cloud and Aries had been eagerly taken. Taken and wheeled out, until the line, hook, and sinker had flown down the dark caverns of lovesick born trust and hope. The others were skeptics, but for those two he could do no wrong.

So he did no wrong.

"Take the girl, we need leverage."

Such were his orders, Shinra's orders. He'd balked then, he wasn't a Turk, but the artic glare of the President had brooked no complaints. He'd asked for clarification, and those fat rimmed eyes had thinned into small lines of distaste, no answer had been forthcoming.

So he'd walked down the slums, seeing the horrors of poverty with his own eyes rather than those made of glass and wire. The smell, Cait had shielded him from that at least! His nose wrinkled in disgust as he carefully weaved his way through the trash strewn paths. He took to the center of the roads, a habit born to one of the upper plates, and he folded to it as easily as submitted to the urge to breathe. He was careless in his wanderings, skirting the jagged edges of risen and broken slabs of pavement, uncaring to how the edge of his pants was fast becoming black streaked. In his soft blue suit he surely stuck out, a blue jay amongst a host of vultures and crows…

No, he had realized, not vultures and crows. There were colors here. He saw them, ringed round by filth and shadowed by loss. There were colors here, if not in the clothes that these people wore than in the eyes. A small spark of hope, perhaps overshadowed by need, but need could be alleviated.

Given time and compassion and care… need could be soothed, like any wound a balm would make the healing easier.

So lost in his half formed plans of restoration –the slums weren't half so bad if you looked at them just right- he barely noticed the odd echo from his steps. It was only when he stopped unexpectedly. His breath flew from his body as he made another turn and saw the magnitude of destruction and decay on this street. He had been dwelling on a half-baked plan of encouraging local residents to do some street cleaning and clearing and the fact that the pavement had totally petered out and became dirt had made him stop in his tracks.

It was then, when he halted, that his stalker came to a stop a moment too late. Reeve froze, hand drifting to a canister of mace he kept clipped to his belt.

He'd never owned a gun, had refused to learn how to shoot one. Midgar was a place of peace, her citizens should strive to follow suit. That's what he'd always said, and he'd even once said it with pride in the presence of Rufus and the vice president's pet Turk, Tseng. They'd both looked at each other, than to him, and they'd laugh. Reeve had even cracked a small indulgent grin at that moment. Mainly because he'd never seen the vice president relax, so much as laugh. The sight brought home the fact that Rufus was little more than an over achieving adolescent with parents in the right places.

Then Rufus had stopped being a child, the last laugh became little more than a confused ghost as he quietly sobered up and pinned a brooding look upon the head of Urban Development.

"You are such an optimist Reeve. You're a good man and an optimist. How has my old man ever managed to keep you all these years?"

Silence had fallen then, it was an awkward and heavy thing. Reeve had been completely confused at the question. There was a faint hint of pity to the youngest Shinra's voice, yet under that was a breath of discontent and frustration.

The silence and stealth of his follower had made Reeve think of Tseng. Was Tseng following him? Rufus had sent the man to escort Reeve home a few times. It was a sign of their friendship that Rufus would extend his protection to encompass a man who was twice his years. Their odd friendship was based in a mutual fascination in watching the silent Turk quietly court the not so quiet Elena. Romance, like war, had a habit of bringing together the oddest of bed fellows…

"Tseng?"

Reeve had half turned to face the expectant silence. If it was the man he'd pad out of the darkness with a nod that was half greeting half apology. Nothing greeted his query save silence, silence and a sense of watching that chilled his blood.

So like the coward that ruled his heart he had ran, ran from the darkness of the slums into the muted light of a humble guardian.

From light he'd run to, to be cheerily haled. An old woman, more grey haired than brown, her posture just beginning to bend from her old age. She looked up from sweeping the front step; her broom was a thing of twigs twined to the staff by way of a few no-color rags.

A small child hid behind the elderly ladies skirts. She was dressed in an oversized tee shirt that hid whatever pants or shorts she was wearing. He froze then, the description flashed in his mind and the child certainly fit it.

"Marlene?" He queered.

She smiled then, showing one tooth to be lost, but it was a warm smile of recognition. For the name, not for the man who uttered it. But recognition was recognition, and this couldn't be anything but. In the innocence of childhood she thought him to be a friend of her father's.

He smiled and told them another lie, yes; he was a friend of her father's.

"I'm a man of many names." He teased the ladies both. "But your father knows me as Cait Sith."

"Well then… Mr. Sith." The old woman half stumbled over the alien nominative. It was most certainly not Continental. Her lips had curled a bit in distaste at its Wautian flavoring. "If you'd like to come in and explain yourself?"

The dark behind him seemed ominous, foreboding, and all too full for his liking. He smiled up at her, and assuming his toy-a-sauras' accent and gait –forgoing the four legged walk for a strutting two legged walk that better suited Mog than Cait- he took her up on the offer.

The three of them –for he'd sternly called Marlene in when Aries' mother would have left her out- had just seated themselves around the humble kitchen table when a faint hiss and thud just outside in the air made his blood thrill. Instinctively he wrenched himself back, and the motion upset the chair and he hit the ground. For one moment four wooden legs were stuck in the air, the next there were only three and bits of wood had flown in his face. Wiping away the streaks of blood, oblivious to the pain in the face of his terror Reeve ordered them all down. The old woman, a survivor of gang wars and worse was quick to obey, the child though screeched in terror.

"Not now lassie, not now!" He barked, falling back on the accent that was not his own. And as if by magic his voice changed, became lighter, even though some corner of him was screeching like the girl. A victim of mindless terror, he was frozen, but even as he froze his limbs moved stiffly. The motions of crawling were like and unlike his own. A throwback to the infantile, a time so long ago it must have been in another life. "We need to be away. Stiff upper lip, my girl, we need t' be off."

She calmed, she quieted, looking to him with wide eyes and trust. So young, she was oblivious to how another bullet hissed over their heads and blasted through a plate left out to dry. He offered her his hand, a hand that could not shake.

He'd do them no wrong, not the girl, not his friends, not to those who mattered.

"Come on lassie, I've come t' take you away. We've places to go, people to see don'cha know?"

And with a trusting smile she took his hand, and he held her close as the air above their heads was ripped asunder by bullets.

 


	2. The Chapel: Of faith

Faux Fur 

The Chapel: Of faith 

He held Marlene close, held her to his chest, as if by mere proximity he could hold off the terror that was reality. There was a heart stopping crash as Elmyra tipped the table over to give them a moment's reprieve. A bullet's hissed into the uppermost part of the table, sending pieces of faux wood everywhere. A virtual rain of them gnawed away at it until it looked like a slice of holey cheese.

Then, as sudden as it began, the attack stopped. For the moment the bullets, the threat, all of it just stopped.

He wasn't a fool though. He didn't buy the idea that silence meant safety. Animals, even monsters went still when a kill was in the offing. Whether it was the hush of an opportunist hoping to feed off the carrion or the predator slinking towards its prey… Reeve knew the silence wasn't safe.

"The door…" He whispered, jerking his head to the front door. "One way?"

"Back's open." Elmyra's soft voice was little more than a breath against his ear. She crouched besides him, and between her and Marlene's shaking it was a wonder he didn't quake himself to pieces.

"We go out the front." He jerked his head to the back, and prayed she would understand.

With Marlene in hand he forgoed crawling on his hands and knees and dared to run out the back, half stooped. Behind him, stumbling more often than not was Aries' mother. They ran out the back together, him holding Marlene, she with nothing at all.

In the end they made it out with the most precious, and he Reeve Tuesti had the dubious honor of carrying the shaking teary girl from that garden. They cut a frantic path through the grassy mound, crushing grass and flowers alike in their flight. Bullets hissed into the dirt behind them like the morbid steps of death.

"This way!"

A slender hand crossed a mundane distance made eternal by the panic in his mind. Elmyra's hand closed over his wrist, pulled him to the side of the building when he would have scrambled to the center of the street yet again. Either way they were easy targets, pinned up against a concrete wall or troding down a rock strewn path. How could it matter what way they ran… Perhaps seeing something of his despair in the eyes Elmyra kept him, and the situation, firmly in hand. She was healthy for an aging lady and quite strong too. Her nails were like talons, and the instinctual fear of pain made him follow her lead.

Broken stone, time worn symbols and decay was the first impression he garnered as they ran like mad things into the chapel. The smears of shadow and light resumed themselves into their proper forms after a few blinks. They became pews and the omnipresent illumination that streaked down from the sky was shown to be tinted a familiar mako green. Visual phenomenon, illumination radiations that mimed sunlight, he'd heard of it, seen the theory even presented in a lab once…

But seeing it here, in a chapel, shining upon a few scraggly flowers and bathing a toppled faceless alter in spring green was something else entirely.

"If there is a God, than he must be here." Reeve murmured, forgetting for a time the ache in his arm, and his companions of the moment.

" _If_? You best be thankin' him for his mercy young man. Because it was by that eternal mercy of his we're still here now!""

He turned to that gentle voice made half horse by the exertion of their mad dash. Reality began to sink in, turned eerie beauty into little more than something to be noted and stowed away.

In his dreams he would remember the living luminescence. The shadows of broken rubble that somehow looked alive in that almost sacred light. The dark forms seemed to be kneeling people all safely tucked into the emerald tinted shadows. Eternal in their show of worship, undaunted by the dark, unflinching at the horror behind them, the stone worshipers...

But that was in dreams, for now he was in reality. There came from behind the pounding of steps. In his flight he remembered a flash of blue glimpsed out of the corner of his eye. Now in this relatively calm moment he thought back on it, and recollection brought forth memory. Bruise blue, Elena would have called the color a Turk's trademark. And like a bruise –and not the kill worthy blow- this Turk was proving to be something of an inept pain. A crack of false thunder sounded and the entrance way spat an all too familiar grey dust.

"Madam, I mean no offense, but the only reason we're still here is because the person who wanted us dead sent the wrong man to do it."

Reeve pulled the small canister of mace off of his belt. He set Marlene down to do so, but she was so scared she clung to his knees and whimpered. Grimly the wry head of Urban Development began to shake the can. It rattled, not unlike the ball set in a can of spray paint, he waited for the tone to change. And it did, only after a few clangs and clatters, it became dull, leaden, then there was no sound at all. No matter how hard he shook the can, it was quiet.

And like the quiet that precluded all of this, it was deadly, dangerous.

XXX

Proudly showing off the small canister to his most unlikely of friends, Reeve waited for at least a nod of approval. Tseng stared at the can, then at the man holding it. Finally, with calloused hands the black clad Turk took the small can from the businessman.

"Well," Reeve had asked. "Are you satisfied? I found it, a perfectly harmless self-defensive device."

"Did you read the red print on the side before buying it?" The man's ironic tone and raised eyebrow did much to knock the wind out of Reeve's proverbial sails.

"N.. no…"

"'Do not shake, will explode under pressure'." Tseng quoted as he rolled the can in his hands. "Congratulations Mr. Tuesti you've gathered yourself a pepper bomb. And a recalled one at that."

With a smirk Tseng had thrown the can at Reeve, who in turn had instinctively reached out to catch it. After Reeve had clipped the small can back on his belt he looked up. Reeve was taken somewhat aback by the somber turn to Tseng's features.

"Get a gun Reeve. You'll need one soon."

"I won't hurt anyone, ever." An old answer to the worn out demand.

Tseng normally countered this pronouncement with a grim air of brooding silence. It was a somber stillness that would make Reeve really think, and make him linger at shops that he knew sold beginners guns at a later date. Still, his ethics, his self-proclaimed pacifist ways, would always hold him back. But now, for once, Tseng did not stare at him. He spoke, and his words sent a spark of indignation through Reeve's being.

"Yet you associate with those who do so, often? What kind of man does that make you Reeve? A hypocrite is not a good man, and I know you strive to be a good man, much to your folly."

Reeve shifted, he became uncomfortable whenever reminded of his Wautian friend's lacking. Formality did much to hide the truth, respect covered the glaring fact that there was little to no compassion lurking in those death black eyes. Eyes that were pinned on Reeve with an expression that might have been remorse. Or maybe pity, not liking the cold scrutiny, not liking being insulted, Reeve had stormed from the Turk's office. He went back to his amusement as Tseng had come to call it, his "toy" as the elder Shinra had dubbed it, or (much to his discomfort) his "experiment" as Hojo was now calling it.

In the soothing dimness of his office Tseng considered the bundles of fur. He would add his final touches to his current work tonight. He had had them laid out, in a neat little row, snippets of black and grey, orange and cream brown, all the natural colors of a cat had been set on his desk in tidy little rows.

In the quiet of his office Reeve had locked the door behind him, and trusting that he was alone set his hand on the machine's back. Light, emerald... no mako green light glimmered into life behind those eyes. Those feline eyes fixed upon him, then the creature stood, without the stereotypical clanks and rattles that are expected of an android. It's soundless, quiet, small and harmless, a child's toy.

A Toysauras.

Green eyes flick into him, onto the snippets of fur and a wide smile creases the grey face plate.

"Ah Reeve, ya shouldn't have! Ya got me all m' fur, an' yer lettin' me pick all on me own!"

Small paws, metal cold, wrap around his head as the creature hugged him. The metal body is as cold as the paws, but the creature's tone is warmth enough. Reeve, a man who never had any children of his own feels something warm within. Something that might have been called paternal, if his creation had been of flesh and blood rather than steel and wires…

It should have disturbed him, the feelings of warmth, of affection, not only those that he felt for his creation but those that his creation was openly showing him. But he never was bothered, not when Cait was up and running and happy to see him, or rather -to be more honest- when Cait was awake. Reeve had recently started to think of Cait's on state as awake, and by doing so he knew he was blurring the lines not only of ethics but of sanity by thinking these things. Regardless, when Cait was off he was asleep, and the turn of phrase had come from Cait himself, not Reeve.

It, Reeve mentally corrected himself, not he. Cait is an it, not a he. He doesn't have the makings of a gender, or a race, or a sex, or anything else that a human has. Thus came cold logic to the rescue, as always. Logic always offered him excuses, ways of looking away from the most pressing of problems…

Humming an off tune ditty Cait went to the first bit of fur and picked it up between the highly mobile digits. He handled the orange bit of fur, after running the small snippet between his fingers Cait then set it aside.

"The whole of it will be patterned with near red swirls. The fur won't be a whole blocky orange."

"Too rough." Cait then looked over his metallic shoulder to stare at Reeve. Green eyes caught the office's lamp light and seemed to gleam like a true cat's would. "An' orange be a lazy tabbies color, eh?"

Startled by the question Reeve blinked. Cait rarely if ever took the initiative in anything, conversation or otherwise. This was new, and not a mite chilling coming on top of his earlier thoughts.

"I… I wouldn't know." Reeve hedged.

"Really? You got a whole bloomin' library on a lazy orange cat in yer desk an' you wouldn't know?"

"Uh… well…" Suddenly the color of his blue suit seemed too tight. Nervously the Shinra employee tugged on the suit to relieve some of the tension. Cait's eyes bored into him, the intense mako green orbs that seemed to be silently laughing. "Now two books aren't quite a library." Reeve admitted with a forced grin. "But certainly two counts against orange aren't enough to make you scorn the color?"

" Orange ain't me! I'm no lazy lap cat!" Cait proudly thrust his chest out, set his hands on his hips and looked unspeakably stubborn. "Not me, nope! I'm, a Tuesti cat, that I am!"

"You are Cait Sith." Reeve corrected, fear of the unknown warred with that warm feeling once again. "and outside this office you'll call yourself a Toysauras and you'll not say a word about me."

Triangular ears –thin sheets of no-color plastic- slicked back in a feline show of shame and Cait seemed to fold onto himself and become small and pathetic.

"B… but…"

Cait didn't hiss or snarl when Reeve moved to pick him up, not like a normal cat would have. He was perfectly still when Reeve moved to take him off the desk and set him in his lap. Confused Cait stood, then perhaps seeing the pain he was causing he better distributed his weight as he sat. Cait looked up, his emerald eyes the only live like color on him peered hopefully into Reeve's face. Despite the fact that Cait had no fur Reeve set his hand between those ears and stroked the metal cap that was Cait's head.

" _Outside_ ," he murmured, placing gentle emphasis on the world. "-you can't say a word about me. Inside, here, alone, you can say whatever you want."

"Yessir…" Cait reached up to smooth whiskers that weren't installed yet, and looked a bit confused and hurt when his paw came in contact with nothing.

"Now then," Reeve crisply set Cait on the table amongst the bits of fur. "-take you're pick, and if you're good maybe I'll get you those whiskers for you tomorrow."

"Whiskers, for me!" Cait pulled a back flip in pure joy. The android's metal feet clomped heavily as they landed on the wooden desk, leaving small scars upon its top. "You're gunna get me whiskers!"

Feeling every inch the indulgent father Reeve smiled down at Cait. Looking every inch the happy son promised a treat; Cait looked up, his tail hissing as it wagged a bit in joy.

X

Guiltily Reeve remembered the bit of cape he had stowed away in his suit case. The cape he was giving to Cait's "brother" Kath. Kath had been as happy as Cait upon getting his fur and whiskers, had picked different colors for his fur and had begged endlessly for his own cape and boots. Finally, after setting Cait off on his mission with Mog, the Shinra executive had folded.

_"I'll get you your cape tomorrow, alright Kath."_

_Kath much more feline like than Cait was had dropped his dignity enough to purr in joy rather than hop._

Grimly holding the canister in one hand Reeve stood and waited, aware how Elmyra and Marlene stood behind him and quaked. The Turk entered then, clad in his damn bruise blue uniform, strolled under the bullet scarred arch as if it was his place. A gun held confidently in his hands.

"Sorry Kath," Reeve murmured under his breath, "it's going to be awhile till I get back. But Cait will explain it all, like always."

Reeve threw the canister.


	3. A Shield of Lies

Faux Fur 

A Shield of Lies 

The canister hit the ground at the Turk's floor with a dull 'tink'. Silence fell then, Reeve's hope drained out of him as the Turk actually dropped his order's customary reserve to laugh. With a contemptuous look twisting his features, the young man clad in bruise blue kicked the canister aside. It spun; end over end, then hit a pew with an oddly hollow clang. Smirking the Turk lifted his gun, leveled it at Reeve.

"You put up one hell of a run Tuesti, but you're no match for a real Turk."

Reeve quaked in panic, staring into the barrel of the gun that was going to end his life. Not knowing one species of gun from the other he was oblivious as to what type it was, hand held he could say that much, and potent, but beyond that he was at a loss to place its type. Black, glossy, it's nose (or was that nozzle? The real word escaped him) was pointed at him.

In his limited experience when people pulled the trigger of the thing the gun was facing tended to explode in a messy manner. Gathering his courage Reeve clenched his fists and refused to back down.

"What do you want?"

"Isn't it obvious? Your death, well your's and the lady's that is. Now who to kill first? Ah there's a question!"

Lazily the Turk let his gun hand go through a lazy arch. It started with Reeve then stopped at Elmyra, nausea made a bitter taste rise in the back of the Shinra suit's throat as he realized that this Turk was going to play with them before taking the child. Divining his victim's illness by way of the green tinge on his cheeks the Turk flashed his teeth in a feral grin.

"Soft and pathetic, just like Heidegger said… this _is_ going to be fun!"

The air seemed to burn in his lungs, his eyes were tearing. Reeve stubbornly blinked back tears, but they came anyways, rolling down his face to become lost in his thin beard and token mustache. He drew a breath to utter some stupid last words chalk full of bravo. Running was useless, the area was flat and open and the Turk had a gun. It didn't take a genius to know that the man would get a clean shot this once and he'd be damned before going out as a coward… Reeve's breath caught in his chest and came out as a wheeze.

From behind him Elmyra was coughing, Marlene was crying and whimpering that the air was hurting…

And the Turk, with a croak staggered back. Furry burned in those watering blue eyes. With a mute snarl the man caught sight of the canister a second before Reeve did. It had become impaled in the edge of a pew, the shin metallic skin had cracked and it was spewing out its peppery gas in a colorless burning cloud.

Snarling something in a ragged voice that barely sounded human the Turk lined the gun up with the canister…

"No, don't!" Reeve staggered forward to stop the man and even as he did so Elmyra grabbed him. She held him back, calling him a fool and worse.

Tseng's parting words rang in Reeve's head as the Turk wordlessly pulled the trigger.

_"Congratulations Mr. Tuesti you've gathered yourself a pepper bomb. And a recalled one at that."_

Ignoring Reeve's warning the Turk fired.

The world seemed be engulfed in colorless acidic fire.

X

"She's sleeping then?"

"Soundly." Elmyra confirmed. She looked around the rather plush surroundings, her expression a mite offended as she considered his humble bachelor's abode. It was spotless steel, and following suit Reeve kept the whole of it spotlessly clean. "Don't you have any walls?"

Reeve pointed up at the ceiling, and Elmyra followed the gesture. Curtains –neatly tied and cast in hues of cool blue and green- cut across the whole of the main room. Small cords dangled invitingly for someone to pull, a mere tug would send them tumbling down. Those were his walls, fabric –not plaster or steel- defined the parameters of his living room and dining room. For even the floors were the same polished steel, marred only with the occasional rug. For now almost all the curtains were up, save the one by the bedroom. It made a makeshift hall, cutting a green gauzy path that started by the outermost edge of the door and wound a few feet before opening up into the main room. The curtain had been dropped to allow the adults a measure of proper distance between themselves and the sleeping child. Or at least that's what Reeve told himself.

"Save for the bathroom and bedroom there aren't any… well rooms I guess. Makes cleaning easier. Anyways, walls are restrictive."

Hands on her hips Elmyra looked around, her frown deepening. She spied numerous bookshelves, all tucked away in one corner, the contents sometimes shelved, most though were scattered on the floor at the metal relic's feet. Books were a luxury, disks were cheaper, easier to produce, and the fact that Reeve _wasted_ money on a frivolous collection of back water relics clearly upset her. Or maybe –Reeve admitted as her frown became a scowl- it was that metal table besides the book shelf that upset her so much. Bits of metal were scattered on it, as well as cutting, wielding, and metal bending tools.

She turned to him, accusation and irritation in her expression.

"Sir, how in Gaia's name to you manage when some child comes in here? This place isn't safe for children, it's a metal field, it is wholly unnatural, and have you ever heard of the wonder of a _plant_ before…"

"Ms. Gainsborough, with all due respect I don't have any children." Her eyes widened in surprise, flicked to the gold ring on his left hand, then to him. Reeve smiled then, it was a pained gesture. "My wife divorced me before we could really ever settle down. It was years ago." He hastened to assure her. "We both were just barely out of college, I got wrapped up in Shinra, and she wanted a life outside of it. We just… stopped being compatible for each other I guess."

He shrugged then looked away from her judging stare. He could almost hear her asking why he didn't give up the ring. Reno, hell even _Rufus,_ had asked him that after he'd told them that the divorce had been over five years ago.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it." Reeve muttered the expected reply.

He walked the span from the middle of the room to the metal table. Bits of fur, scraps of metal, and a small feline toy that was slumped and off greeted his arrival to his after work work station. Too worn to care Reeve tossed his suitcase onto the table. Fake fur floated around him, sent to the air by the plastic case's landing. The miasma of wood and dust and mace hung in the air around it and him, he needed a shower, badly. Still, if nothing else, he was ever the gentleman.

"Ms. Gainsborough, why don't you make use of the bathing facilities like Marlene has? I don't have any proper clothes to replace what you've got on now but you might fit one of my suits well enough to make do for a while. I'll leave them by the door for you in a moment."

Then, obligation to his guest done, Reeve folded to a months old custom. The executive reached behind the fake feline's back and pressed upon the orange tabby's spine. Blue eyes opened and he was greeted with a purr. Reeve smiled, forgetting his troubles for the moment as Kath playfully tapped his face with a velvet encased paw.

"'Lo Reeve-ie!" Kath purred, his voice high pitched, squeaky and unsure. He hadn't accepted the accent software as had Cait Sith. As a matter of fact trying to install the same materials to make a copy of Cait had turned into a disaster, Kath had rejected almost everything Reeve tried to install, and in the end had wound up only accepting a few of the personality ports that Reeve had put up to him. The results were a totally different person that was in a similar little feline body, and unlike Cait, Kath was perfectly at home with being small and mild.

"Hello Kath."

Kath happily tapped Reeve's face with a paw, a failed attempt at copying Reno's high five. The failure wasn't from Kath's lack of manual dexterity –he had no problem with doors as one amusing incident of Kath strolling into the shower had shown- it was mainly flawed due to fact that the robotic cat found the flinch after each tap hilarious. Kath giggled like a little boy when Reeve obligingly cringed back from the soft paw.

"Notta claw, why Reeve-ie flinch back?" Small steel claws were flashed then sheathed, to prove Kath's point.

"Notta clue." Reeve gave the expected answer with a smile. "How was today?"

"Borin' slept lottsa." Kath stretched and yawned, then set his paws behind his head with a smile and looked around. His eyes widened as he looked to some point beyond and behind Reeve. Surprised Reeve turned, not quite liking the look of fear of Kath's face.

Elmyra was there, he'd forgotten about her, and her expression could have been a perfect match for Kath's.

"What in God's name…"

Kath helped matters by hissing in shock. Creeping down to all fours the feline shaped robot let out a _merow_ of pure fear and pressed himself against Reeve.

"Easy…." Setting his hand on Kath's head Reeve only broke the contact so he could stand. Then, once sure of his footing he set his hand once more on Kath's head and turned to face Elmyra. "Ms. Gainsborough, may I introduce to you my friend, Kath Sith. He's Cait Sith's brother, Cait's the feline who is currently accompanying your daughter." Reeve added the last to counter the confusion that must surely be in Elmyra's mind.

"But… it's not natural… it can't be… a thing…" Elmyra murmured a string of half formed sentences –most of them uncomplimentary from what Reeve was picking up- and stared at them both in wide eyed shock. She was so shocked she began to sway. Horror shone in her eyes. Horror was fast to change to anger however. "You sent a _thing_ with my daughter! You claim to be a friend but you send a… a robot to look after her!"

"I can hardly go as myself!" Reeve snarled; his patience with the woman's prejudice spent. "I'm a top ranking executive of Shinra, I'd be missed."

"That or you're a spy!" Elmyra countered, her voice going shrill.

Her accusation hit home. Reeve winced, then with a shaking hand smoothed the thin wisps of hair that he had grown over his upper lip. Turning from Elmyra he dropped his hand. Kath, in need of some soothing pressed his head under Reeve's hand. The Shinra executive gave in, with an absent smile. He stroked Kath's head, tracing the red whirls that marred the orange perfection of Kath's fur.

"If I were a spy I wouldn't have risked my life to save yours." Reeve said at last. Uttering the first of what would become a screen of lies.

"You were attacked with us." Elmyra snapped, clearly not believing him.

He smiled at that, and like the cashmere cat's smile in the fable it was a wide grin, fast to appear and fast to fade.

"Yes, probably because someone higher up than me wanted me dead. If I wasn't there you wouldn't be here." He reminded her, letting the grin drop. "I think that alone points to some merit on my behalf. I've placed you under my roof for your safety, I've sent my Cait to join your daughter's friends, and almost all in Shinra know my… my…" With Kath literally underhand Reeve choked a bit on the word "pet" and strove to temporize. "…of my fondness of cats. Anyone who sees Cait will know I'm involved. I've put myself in as much danger as they have." He concluded firmly, almost believing the words himself.

Her disbelief crumpled under the barrage of his words. She didn't quite trust him –or maybe she just didn't like him- but at least she didn't hate him anymore.

"You're a coward, hiding behind a toy." She grumbled.

To her words he gripped Kath a little tighter, a silent reassurance that he wasn't a toy and met her gaze levelly. "You'll pardon me if I don't decide to traipse out into the wilderness and kill monsters on my off days. But I've a great deal to do here; duty is binding to those who are responsible. Anyways," he added bitterly, "unlike your daughter who is so conveniently an Ancient, or her friends who are either ex-SOLDIERS, or have other more mundane alterations to themselves to make combat easier, I'm just a man. No alterations, no Mako infusions, no materia, no anything."

Elmyra bit her lip, looked uncomfortable, and Reeve smirked at the sight. He wasn't a cruel man, far from it, but her silent glares of disapproval and her "I'm closer to the Planet purity and you aren't, you poor benighted soul", attitude rubbed his patience raw. Seeing the woman knocked down a proverbial peg he couldn't resist one final parting shot.

"You must excuse me than, for being both a mundane man and prudent."

He turned on his heel then, went to the door.

"I'm… I'm sorry."

He stopped at her words; the apology must have been hard to give. Considering that Reeve was a part of Shinra, part of the organization that had so wronged the girl Elmyra had raised as her own… He wasn't a cruel man, nor was she a cruel woman. Circumstance had merely made them both hard to the world around them. He sighed, and rebuked himself to remember that, always.

"So am I. I need to go out now. I'll be back in an hour, and if you can wait that long I'll have some more appropriate clothes for you and the girl."

And with that he walked out. Locking his apartment door behind him.


	4. Cut of the same cloth

Faux Fur 

Cut of the same cloth

 

"A Mr. Tootsee to see you Mr. T'sing."

So said the secretary. She was a brainless member of her specie clad in a stereotypical short skirt and tight blouse that flaunted what counted in the small echoing expanse of her mind. She flashed Reeve a parting smile before ducking back into the hall, and even had the nerve to wink at him. Ignoring the woman's blatant invitation Reeve reached up, centered his tie, then stepped through the open glass door. He shouldn't have bothered; eschewing his office for the day Tseng had taken one of the few overhanging balconies that peppered the Shinra tower like jags in a perfectly good pillar. Having marked the overhanging as his own, Tseng enjoyed both the heady smoke tinged breeze and a commanding view of Midgar. The Wutian Turk was so confident that no nicotine crazed suit was brave enough to dare his wrath that he'd actually had a small desk brought out here. The Turk's cell phone lay on the desk, folded and weighted down by a paperweight cast in the image of a winding blue serpent.

But it was no mere snake that held the Turk's phone in its confident coils; it was Leviathan, the sea serpent. Pagan god of the oceans, tsunami's, and other myriad natural disasters that were all water based. The snake’s eyes were a dead black, and made a perfect match to the Turk's equally dark eyes.

"Reeve, you're looking well. Stressed, but well." Tseng stood, as was custom between two equals of the same blood.

Falling into the patterns of an old dance, half-forgotten and not exercised since childhood, Reeve approached the Turk and stopped approximately halfway between the door and the desk. Tense silence fell between them, but the silence between equals must be tense. Both men must gauge the cloth that the other was cut from. To refrain from doing so would mean that one or both were assuming a superiority complex. As in rustic Wutai, the Shinra corporation held to the motto that assumptions could have horrible consequences.

Unlike rustic Wutai there were less uncomfortable means of assessing rank. But Reeve held his peace. To act Continental around Tseng would to be the same as breaking the fragile tie that both men acknowledged took the place of friendship.

Right now, as distasteful as Reeve found it, he needed Tseng's good graces to carry on. He needed assurances of the man's loyalties. Reeve didn't expect any loyalty towards himself, but he needed to know where Tseng stood in regards to Rufus, the new president of the Shinra company.

Tseng nodded, and Reeve had his permission now to crossed the rest of the distance. Tseng's nod in protocols direction had been assuaged, now they could get onto business.

"Yes, stressed." Tseng reiterated, relaxing enough that his accent thickened and he became lazy with his word placement. "A bad day today for you, no?"

"Turk assassination attempts tend to try one's patience." Reeve countered, letting an edge of anger creep into his voice. "I'm sure though that it was just a misunderstanding."

"A Turk assassination attempt?" Tseng rose one well-trimmed eyebrow. The gesture was graceful and conveyed absolutely nothing for Reeve to read. "You look rather well for a dead man."

"You sent the worst shot in the history of Midgar to kill me." Reeve took the vacant seat that was set in front of the Turk's desk as his own. Gracefully folding himself onto it, even as Tseng leaned against the back of his own chair.

"Ah, you mean the "Turk", Fransiscio? Yes, the man does have a bad aim." Tseng chuckled at that, clearly amused. "Heiddegar sent orders and they had to be followed to the letter. I sent a trained Turk after you; the fact that he was incompetent isn't my fault. He will be dealt with accordingly."

A strong gust of winds brought the scent of something burning. Reeve wrinkled his nose and looked beyond Tseng, looked beyond and down... The ruins of the plate seven sector were faintly visible. A dull orange red line on the horizon, because for all its height the Shinra tower could see no farther than the edge of its own splendor. One could only see the upper plate, the slums, and middle plates were all cast in the shadows of the tower and lost to sight.

Tseng frowned, dropped the friendly smile and custom all at once. He leaned forward then, held Reeve in place with his empty black pit eyes.

"You've... acquired something that wasn't yours in your flight. That's what Fransiscio said before his demotion."

Swallowing, Reeve knew better than to deny any claim a Turk (even a disgraced one) made against him. To do so would be to give Tseng all the leverage the man wanted against him. It was the law now that if any Turk suspected you of anti-Shinra activities, be you executive or the president's son, you were there's. And Turk custody was synonymous with being a dead man.

"Demoted? I've never heard of Turk's stepping down, not ever."

Quirking his lips in a half smile Tseng leaned back against the chair. He was a tall man, broad shouldered, powerful yet not bull strong like his underling Rude. Flexible yet stable, the head of Secret Police embodied balance in all the senses of Wutian and Continental alike. Not too all, not too short, neither too strong, nor too weak. It was his averageness in all things physical and his eschewing of the fact that being strong meant that one was a fool that made him so dangerous.

A mere week ago he would have been wearing a glossy blue suit and black tie, now, for some mysterious reason, he'd conformed to wearing all black. Glossy black boots hit the able with a dull thump as the Turk kicked them up and let gravity bring them down upon the edge. Slanted eyes thinned to small slits, and the half smile became a full smile that did not catch the eyes.

 _The poet rides the beast, ware the fangs and silver tongue,_ went the old proverb from home. and it embodied Tseng, who was both a man of grace and a man of war.

Reeve stiffened in response, his hand going for the mace can that wasn't there. Not that mere can of mace would save him if Tseng decided that the meeting was going to take a premature and bloody end.

"He was... forcibly demoted, Reeve. The only reason a man leaves the Turks is because he's shipped out in a body bag. But certainly you've know that? I've heard young Reno tell you so often enough."

"I thought...it's a joke. You know Reno, he's a prankster." Reeve forced a smile, and shrugged.

Tseng's tone became part bitter, part mocking. "Yes, but he wasn't joking, and you should have known that Tuesti. You should know man things, but you don't, and you find ignorance so much more palatable than truth. If you must know the reason I have picked such a windy abode it is because the custodian staff balks at cleaning up after the body of a man. After we're done here I'll be attending cleaning detail myself."

Leviathan rang, the sound was so odd, the image so strange, that Reeve almost hopped out of his chair in shock. Sparing the head of Urban development an amused glance, Tseng slid his hands through the tangle of coils and wormed out the cell phone. It opened with a quiet click, but then the wind picked up and drowned out the sound. The mini gale made a wild halo of Tseng's long black hair and a royal mess of Reeve's. The winds obscured the subtleties and made a howling noise between Reeve's ears that blocked out Tseng's speech though the man was only a few inches away.

"Elena, you've dis- Good! I'll be down in a bit! Hold to your location! I'll call you ba- exe-"

The rest was lost, mainly since Tseng gave up and gestured for Reeve to follow him back inside. Once in the safety of the white halls Tseng closed and pocketed the phone. Turk and Executive, were both equally disheveled. While Tseng ran a hand though his own black hair to put it in its place Reeve gingerly picked at his now loose tie and tried valiantly to center it.

Sighing, Tseng patted the phone then met Reeve's gaze a final time.

"You don't believe me, what I said about demotion? No, I suppose no. Like I've said before, you are a good man, Reeve Tuesti. You expect the best from everyone, even when it is obvious they aren't good, or kind, or even worthy of respect. You are, at your core, a young idealist."

"I'm almost your age." Reeve pointed out, calling his tie a lost cause he finally pulled it off and let it drop.

"Really? Well I guess in years, yes, you are. You are too Continental to understand that age isn't years, but life lived." Tseng looked beyond Reeve, beyond and perhaps down.

But he did not meet Reeve's eyes again.

"You doubt me? Go to my office, and understand what a Turk really is. You might find it educational. At the very least I won't have to tip-toe around your sensibilities anymore. Now, if you'll excuse me, Elena has fulfilled her assignment and needs me present to oversee the end of it."

"What assignment?"

"Prying into Turk secrets, are we? Without even knowing what a Turk is? Tisk tisk, I expected better."

"You don't.. say the word "tisk"." Reeve corrected absently. "It's just a sound you make, you're not supposed to say it like that."

"I'm of Wutia, like you, therefore I'm excused. And on the topic of excuses, I must excuse myself. Have a good evening Mr. Tuesti."

So saying Tseng walked down the hall towards the elevator to let himself out.


	5. The ghosts we don't see…

Faux fur

The ghosts we don't see…

_He froze, eyes wide, face pale, hands shaking. He froze as he stared down at the truth, the bloody mangled truth. Unblinking eyes, body a mangled memory, half recalled but distorted be the mess of red tossed all around. He looked, unseeing, sickened at the sight before him…_

Shaking his head Reeve banished the fantasy. He hadn't had time for stupid Turk dares, he had more concrete needs to peruse, and so he had turned down Tseng's little offer. He'd left the Shinra tower, abandoned its familiar confines and after picking up a copy of the "Mako Metropolis" had found a place with a decent sale on woman's clothing. With rough memories in his mind giving him an edge to what to buy –as well as a short span where he actually had lived with his girlfriend- Reeve felt fairly confident that he could tackle buying one little girl and one elderly woman some clothes.

He should have known better, and five minutes later after entering one of the smaller scale clothing stores his mind was reeling. Textures, styles, colors, cuts, there were a hundred different variables. Less than a quarter of an hour in and he was already dreaming of a simple suit section with at most five styles and only a handful of colors being permitted by corporate.

It didn't help that his imagination, which was relentlessly challenging him to go back to the Turk's office and actually see, was going non-stop. Damn Tseng, the man knew how Reeve was, he knew that once his curiosity had been awakened it wouldn't go to sleep. As he moved his hands over the rack, the screech of plastic over metal set his teeth on edge.

And he wasn't even seeing the clothes, not really, not with his mind locked on something else entirely.

Finally, knowing only that he needed to get back, he picked out two sets of dresses for Marlene and one set of business styled pants and shirt for Elmyra, as an afterthought he also snatched up a dress for the elderly woman. Not much of a purchase, but with luck and with the Turks busy -it went without saying that when Tseng actually left his office some massive project was going down- Reeve would be able to go down into the slums and fetch some clothes from the Gainsborough home.

In a few days, he promised himself, he'd go down. Just not yet.

So he paid and gave gil and lies over the counter. The clothes, they were for niece and grandmother from a half-sister’s side of the family. Why so little? Well the girl was ill; he wanted them to be present so they could pick out what they wanted. This was just an emergency run after a hasty trip from the doctor's. Thank you for the concern. Yes, he nodded, yes he'd forward whatever prayers, hopes, and other empty platitudes they had to offer to a perfectly healthy little girl. With a smile pasted to his face Reeve let himself out, his stomach was a mess of anxiety that clung to his backbone with a death like grip.

He managed to make it to his car, open the trunk and toss the clothes in. It was on closing the trunk that his sensibilities revolted in full. A bitter taste flooded his mouth and he sank to his knees, retching all the while. Pale, shaking, he wiped vomit from his lips and tasted the bitter acidic taste that came after such a fit. Another clench of his gut and Reeve shut his eyes, knowing without knowing how that he was going to be violently sick again.

And he was.

X

Gently holding Marlene in her lap Elmyra combed the girl's hair. It was too dark a hue to be her Aeris', but the contact and soothing motions brought forth a million memories. The scent of wet little girl, the brush, the sweep of each stroke.

Marlene was quiet, not inquisitive as say... Aerith. She didn't talk much, and when Elmyra asked what style the little girl wanted her hair set in the child merely shrugged. But then, the child was fixated on something else entirely. Flashing saucer wide eyes, orange fur, a slowly waving tail. Perched upon the long desk was the thing Reeve had dubbed Kath. It stared down at them with glass eyes that were an off sky blue hue. Ignoring the creature's scrutiny was easy for Elmyra since it hadn't made a peep, but Marlene, uneducated in what was right and proper found the unnatural thing fascinating.

"How would you like a braid, dear?"

"Hmmm..."

Lightly rapping the girl with the back of the brush Elmyra gathered Marlene's complete undivided attention. Rubbing her head with a small hand Marlene looked up, her blue eyes a touch hostile. Ignoring the look Elmyra set the brush down.

"Now dear, what would you like me to do with your hair today?"

"Mmm... whatever."

Elmyra tisked, disappointed in the child's lack of interest in something that was important.

"Really... whatever did your mother teach you?" Elmyra scolded

"I don't have a Mommy. It's jus' Daddy an' me." Marlene said, clearly she was not interested Elmyra in the least.

Her eyes were riveted on the creature, Kath.

X

"Sir," Elena gave him a salute as approached.

Tseng nodded indulgently, aware as always of the press of SOLDIERS around them. There was something wrong about them, something that set his teeth on edge. It might have been bias, but he wasn't supposed to biased. Tell that to the man who had watched the Jenova specimen crawl out of its cage though... Tell it to the man who had to impassively watch as it crawled upon its stumpy limbs and devoured and dismembered a troop of mundane security, SOLDIER, and the Turk team it had encountered on its way out. Even now, after watching the video twice, Tseng couldn't tell how the monster had done so.

Only that the flesh of its swollen decapitated neck would expand and contract and odd shaped pieces of the people in its hands would disappear into that tube like carapace. Yet the shape of the bites were erratic, as if the mouth that had left its mark had been different every time.

At least Sephiroth, for all his adjustments, was at his core human. Insane, yes, but human. There was a sliver of comfort in that, odd as it may seem. Tseng had seen the depths the human soul could plunge to, but it was still human and not some headless slimy atrocity.

"Elena, any confirmation on that idiot's claims?"

"Yes sir." Dropping her hand the Turk also dropped her gaze then raised it again. Not quite a bow, but so much like one that Tseng felt a wave of calm crash over him. Familiarity, he ached for the patterns of familiarity, and Elena was providing it. First for being a Turk, and then for offering him a bit of a cultural puzzle. It was the fascinating... no _alluring..._ mix of Wutian reserve and Continental straightforwardness to her manner that made his eyes linger on her more often than not. "If we may retire to some private area..."

"Understood." Tseng didn't smile, he wouldn't among the morass of SOLDIER troop around him, but Elena was a Turk. She caught the slight softening of his tone, if nothing else. "We'll retire to the civilian target's headquarters."

Turk slang for Aerith's home, raising a brow Elena followed him. They left the gathering of SOLDIER'S to watch over the church and entered a different world. Steel grey and the eternal overhanging was worn away by blood hued rust, enough so that beams of golden sunlight made it through the omnipresent smog clouds and cast the world in an off gold color. Green licked at pavement, at stones, and the wonder of living grass coiled around one impoverished house among the cluster.

"Even the President... I mean even old man Shinra didn't have such a luxury." Elena noted.

"Fake grass, bits of plastic made so soft it almost passed for the real, yes. The genuine article, no." Tseng agreed with his Turk with a grin. "I hear Rufus plans to have all of it ripped out, one of the first goals of the company."

"You're joking, right?"

"Do I ever?" Tseng countered.

"Sometimes." Elena met his dry humor with a bit of her own.

Then dropping her Turk reserve she went ahead, not quite skipping on the grass, but her feet did linger between steps. She clearly appreciated the cool, living, covering over their world of stone and steel. As for Tseng, he kept to the stone walkway, enjoyed with sight the still plant life without degrading his honor to the point of touching it. Still he smiled a bit at her antics. The scent and sight were enough to satiate his senses, but hedonistic continental she was she might go so far as to take her shoes off and frolic if he didn't put his foot down at some point.

He cleared his throat, only that, but she went still at the merest hint of reprimand.

"Elena, there is a garden in the back; if you'd be so kind as to join me there we can talk in relative silence."

"Relative?"

The twittering of bird song originating behind the Gainsborough house answered her question before he could.

"Relative." Tseng reiterated. Then with that he turned on his heel. Elena, slipping her gun back into its holster, sheepishly followed.


End file.
